


I Saw You Kissing Santa Claus

by ImpalaGirl42



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, Dean is a Terrible Santa, F/M, Santa Isn't Real
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 20:31:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17290889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImpalaGirl42/pseuds/ImpalaGirl42
Summary: Dean thinks this is a bad idea. There's no such thing as Santa. Jack isn't going to fall for it.You want Jack to believe in Santa for just one year. To experience the magic of childhood.What will you do when Jack starts to believe that Santa won't bring him any gifts because he's half-angel? Is letting Dean play Santa *really* a good idea?





	I Saw You Kissing Santa Claus

Dean thought your idea was stupid.

You thought your idea was harmless and part of the magic of being a child. As always, you were going to win this argument with Dean.

“Magic? Seriously, sweetheart? You know how I feel about witchcraft.”

Sam rolled his eyes behind Dean’s back. He, too, knew how this argument was going to end. 

“Not literal magic you nerd, the metaphorical kind. Normal children grow up believing in Santa. YES, Dean, we all know he doesn’t really exist.”

The ever-so-inconsiderate Dean Winchester interrupted you, “Jack isn’t a child! He’ll never fall for it.”

“He kind of is, Dean,” Sam said, “not physically, of course, but emotionally he is. This is his first Christmas. Let her do her thing, then we’ll tell him the truth.”

Dean ran his hand down his face, “Man, I don’t like it. What about Cas? Gonna lie to him too? He’s a lot more ‘emotionally mature’,” Dean made sarcastic air quotes, “and will spill the beans.”

“Already covered sweetheart, he agreed with me that this was a good idea.”

Looking at Dean across the library table you could see his forehead wrinkled in frustration. You watched him nurse his whiskey for a few moments thinking over your arguments. His lips turned down into a frown, but the wrinkles in his forehead smoothed out and you knew you had won. 

“Fine. Go ahead. Lie to the son of an evil archangel. When this bites you in the ass though, don’t come crawling to me for cleaning up your mess.” 

Dean grabbed his whiskey and drained it. Slamming the glass on the table, he stood up and stormed out of the library. Sam started to get up to follow him, but you put your hand on his arm and shook your head. 

“No, let him go. I’ll talk to him later.”

* * *

Jack listened to your stories of Santa Claus. He was skeptical at first, wondering how one man could deliver presents to every person on earth in one night. 

“As best we can tell, he uses magic of some sort, Jack.” 

“That makes sense, Sam.”

He started to question how Santa knew who was naughty and who was nice during breakfast the next morning. 

“There are a lot of people. How does he keep track of everyone?”

Dean groaned and carried his coffee and bacon out the room. Thirty seconds later you heard his door slam shut.

“We’re not sure Jack, maybe more magic. Like a magic book of names or something,” you tried to hand-wave an explanation that would answer his question without actually answering it. 

“Oh. Like the book at Hogwarts that tells them who is a wizard and will be admitted?”

“Yes, maybe there’s something like that,” you smiled at Jack and smoothed his hair away from his face.

Jack ate his cereal with a contemplative look on his face. He sat his spoon down in his bowl and looked sadly at the table. 

You reached out and grabbed one of his hands, “What’s wrong honey?”

“Santa won’t bring me anything.”

Sam and you exchanged puzzled glances over Jack’s head. “Why do you think that Jack. You’re a good kid. Santa will know that,” Sam said.

Jack looked up at Sam and tried to smile, but couldn’t quite make his lips go in the right direction. “Santa brings presents to humans. Santa doesn’t bring presents to angels. I’m only half human. That’s not going to be enough for him to come to me.”

Your eyes filled with tears at Jack’s matter of fact recitation of his logic. Gathering him close in your arms, you said, “No honey, Santa comes to everyone who is good. Even half-angels.”

At first, you thought Jack was going to melt into your embrace as he usually did, but a few seconds after you wrapped your arms around him, he pulled away from you. This time when he tried to smile, he succeeded in pasting on a sort of smile, but it obviously didn’t reach his eyes. 

“Thanks, but there aren’t any other half-angels, so you can’t know that.” 

He dumped his cereal into the trash and slumped his way toward his room looking terribly dejected. You raised panicked eyes up to Sam, who was sitting there with his mouth open in shock.

“What the hell do we do now Sam?” 

Sam ran his hands through his hair and sighed, “We could, uh, we could tell him the truth.”

“The truth? Are you crazy!? If we tell him the truth now, he’ll be even more crushed. Godamnit, but I think Dean was right.”

“Hmm, words I like to hear. What am I right about this time?”

You and Sam looked at Dean. You grimaced and Dean’s grin faltered. He sat beside you and wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close and giving you a kiss on your forehead.

“What’s wrong sweetheart?” 

Sighing, you told him what Jack believed and how you didn’t know how to fix it.

“Simple. I’ll dress up as Santa on Christmas Eve and deliver some presents to the bunker. That should do it.”

Sam raised an eyebrow, “You’d do that. After all your bellyaching about not wanting us to do this?”

Dean looked offended, “Of course I will. I still think it’s a dumb idea, but my sweetheart is bummed, and I gotta take care of her. I’ll rent a Santa suit for the night. Not a big deal.”

* * *

Christmas Eve came after several weeks of trying uselessly to cheer Jack up by decorating the bunker, singing carols, shopping for presents, and copious cups of hot chocolate. Even an epic snowball fight that Jack won after the first snowfall didn’t put a smile on his face.

You insisted that everyone hang out in the Fortress of Deanitude that evening, drinking hot chocolate (you made sure that Dean’s was laced with whiskey) and watching Christmas movies. Dean slipped out of the room about ten pm and thirty minutes later a loud pounding sound came from the front door of the bunker. 

Even though everyone knew it was Dean, the three of you walked to the front door with guns raised. Sam cracked the door open and Dean yelled out, “HO! HO! HO! MERRY CHRISTMAS!”

Sam lowered his gun and pretended to be surprised by the Santa standing there, “SANTA?”

“I’ve come to deliver presents to everyone! You don’t have a chimney so I have to use the front door.” 

Dean whispered to Sam, “Dude, let me in. My balls are freezing off here, and I think my girlfriend would appreciate them being intact.”

Sam made a face at that but stepped back for Dean to enter the bunker. Dean slapped Sam on the back, “Thanks man.”

The two men stomped their way down the stairs and toward the library. Dean was carrying a large green duffel bag on his shoulder. You recognized it as the bag that lives in the Impala that you all carry weapons in. You ran your hand down your face and sighed, thinking to yourself that Dean could have at least gotten a new bag to carry gifts in. Hoping Jack wouldn’t pay attention to the bag, you placed your hand on Jack’s back and pushed him forward slightly.

Jack was actually beaming. 

“Santa? Is that really you?” 

Dean tried to make his voice sound different, but it just sounded like he had a cold. “Yes, Jack, it’s me! I’ve come to give you presents.”

“But I’m not human.”

Dean waved his hand dismissively and made a pfft sound, “I don’t care about that, boy, you were a good kid. Your name was on my nice list, so here I am. Let’s see what you got.”

He opened his duffel and pulled out a long and narrow package wrapped in bright red and gold paper. Handing it to Jack, he said, “There’s one. I think I have more, hang on.” Digging around in the bag he found two more gifts for Jack and three each for Sam and you. 

Dean zipped the duffel back up and turned around to go back up the stairs. Jack frowned at the ground. He looked like he wanted to say something, but was unsure of himself. You held up a hand to stop Dean from leaving. You then reached out and grabbed Jack’s face, “What’s wrong honey?”

Jack’s eyes were full of tears and his voice wobbled a bit when he said, “Santa didn’t bring any gifts for Dean. Was he naughty?”

You shot Dean a death glare. Sam hit Dean on the back of his head. 

“Ow! Stop hitting me, Sam! No, kid, Dean wasn’t naughty. I, um. I ran out of room in my bag. Heh, yeah. I’ll be back later with his gifts. They were really really big and my bag is kinda small. Sorry, Dean.”

Dean turned on his heel and sprinted up the stairs, leaving the duffel laying on the library table. 

Jack said, “He forgot his bag.”

Sam grabbed it quickly and held it close to him, “I’ll make sure he gets it when he comes back.” 

Jack nodded and turned to you, “Did you see? You were right! Santa did come for me! I was good this year!”

You pulled Jack into a hug, happy that your scheme had played out so well after all.

* * *

Hours later, after Jack had gone to bed you and Dean were sitting in the library. Dean was wearing the Santa suit and you were on Dean’s lap. 

“You almost blew it you know. But we pulled it off. Jack was so happy. Thank you.”

You leaned forward and kissed Dean. The Santa beard tickled your face and made you giggle. Dean wiggled his eyebrows and said, “I know how you can thank me, sweetheart,” and pulled you back for another kiss. This kiss started out tender and gentle but quickly turned passionate. 

Within minutes the two of you were naked and laying on top of the library table moaning each other’s names as you came together in perfect harmony. 

After a few moments of post-coital cuddling, you sat up and patted Dean on his chest, “Come on hot stuff, let’s go to bed. Jack will probably be up super early tomorrow now that he’s excited about Christmas again.”

“Yeah, good point. Also? My mattress remembers me, this table definitely does not,” Dean arched his back and popped a couple vertebra back into place, before slipping on a pair of boxers and grabbing the Santa suit.

* * *

The next morning at breakfast Jack kept looking between you and Dean sadly, and finally, in typical Dean fashion, he exploded. 

With a mouth full of oatmeal, Dean slammed down his spoon, and yelled, “Dude, you’ve been staring at me like someone died – again – all morning. What the fuck?”

Jack looked down at his bowl of cereal, “I am sorry Dean, but I don’t know how to tell you this. You won’t like it.”

Dean picked up his spoon and pointed it at Jack, “I like you creeping sad faces at me even less. Spill.”

“I came back out to the library after we all went to bed last night.”

Your spoon froze on its way to your mouth. You glanced over to Dean, he had stopped mid-chew.

You sat your spoon down in your bowl, “What happened Jack. Did you see something.”

Jack nodded, “I saw you kissing Santa Claus. Dean, your girlfriend isn’t being faithful to you. I’m sorry to be the one to tell you like this.”

Sam and Dean burst out laughing. Dean still had a mouth full of oatmeal and you were facing him across the table, so he naturally sprayed that oatmeal all over your breakfast when he started laughing. Throwing him a bitchface, you got up to throw your breakfast away, your face burning. 

“Ok, enough is enough. Jack. About Santa. There’s something you should know.”


End file.
